


You've got the love I need to see me through

by sirona



Series: Don't Touch Lola [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Body Modification, Bucky feeeels, Bucky had plans for that car, Driving, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Lola is one sexy lady, M/M, Post-Winter Soldier, fanboy Coulson, head canon, hints of era-appropriate homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/pseuds/sirona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky (and Steve, because, well, he's never been good at saying 'no' to Bucky) steal Lola to go joy-riding. (That's Bucky's story and he's sticking to it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've got the love I need to see me through

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lanyon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/gifts).



> For Lanyon, who's had a tough couple of weeks and deserves all the boys in love. <3
> 
> Thanks to my darling Zolac_no_Miko for reading this over. <3
> 
> Title from Florence's version of the song.

Two months and three weeks after SHIELD (or, actually, Natasha, because of course) hit him really hard upside the head, Bucky Barnes walks out into the first floor of garages in SHIELD's HQ, takes one look at the car parked across the driveway, and says, "Wait a minute."

Steve Rogers, walking half a step behind his left shoulder, doesn't try to stop his smile. 

"Recognise her?" he teases, while Bucky swallows dryly a couple of times.

" _Recognise_ her?" he grunts. "Oh, you mean the car I had several weeks' worth of wet dreams about? Yeah, I _think_ so."

Steve chuckles while Bucky makes a beeline for it and circles it once, twice, looking her over. 

"It's not the same car, of course," Steve says, voicing what Bucky suspects. "This model is about twenty years younger, but it's the same idea, and yes, this one had plenty of Howard's input, too."

"Whose is it?" Bucky demands. He slides a covetous palm over the top of her door, traces the curve of her hips to the tiny trunk. 

"Coulson's," Steve says, shrugging when Bucky raises incredulous eyebrows at him. "Hey, I haven't had a chance to ask, he's only been back a month or so, for the trial. We can ask him later."

Bucky grins. He can feel his cheeks stretch, knows it's more than a little evil. 

"Yeah," he drawls. "We can. Later."

Steve blinks at him, and then his eyes widen. He bites his lip.

"Bucky," he says. He's trying for admonishment, Bucky can see, but Bucky is a tougher nut to crack than that. 

"We can't," Steve tries again. "He'll skin us alive."

"What, _you_? His childhood hero? I saw the way he looked at you, he probably wants to be the one to give you a ride in this." He isn't jealous. He _isn't_.

Steve looks shifty. "He does not," he counters, but Bucky hopes he doesn't try this level of deception on the bad guys, he won't last a minute. "Besides, then _Clint_ would skin me."

It's Bucky's turn to blink. Huh. He hadn't seen that one; but then again, he hadn't been looking for it. 

"So," he says, instead of delving into that rabbit hole -- plenty of time later. "In the interest of avoiding Clint skinning you -- that one, I _can_ believe -- I think we should go ahead and take this baby for a ride."

Steve splutters. It's about as ineffectual as it always used to be, when Bucky planned one of their more hare-brained schemes. 

"Bucky," he whines, but Bucky is having none of it. Howard _promised_ him, that one time Bucky had gotten even closer to being blown up than before, and was drifting in and out of consciousness while Steve got chewed out by Phillips for letting him -- ridiculous, as if Steve ever _let_ him do anything, even Carter had known better than to try that kind of guilt trip on him. Howard promised, and he might no longer be around for Bucky to collect, but hell if Bucky is gonna let that stop him. 

"Hop in, soldier," he says, jumping over the top of the door and sliding smoothly into the driver's seat. 

"We are so dead," Steve mutters, but he jumps in beside Bucky, just like Bucky knew he would. 

"Ah, you'll survive," Bucky says dismissively, flicking open the top of his left ring finger and pulling out his lockpicks. He has her running in seconds, a smooth purr that makes something tighten in his groin. He'd had _plans_ for that car, plans for him and her and Steve, post-war, plans that more often than not carried him through pain and misery and hopelessness and waiting to die, and now that he has a second chance to make good on those, well, just try and stop him.

The car handles like a dream, just like Bucky always knew she would. By the time they've gone ten blocks, Steve has even stopped fidgeting and looking over his shoulder, and is relaxing into the seat, long legs sprawled out under the console. Traffic is light for the time of day; they make the outskirts of the city in good time, but Bucky presses on, craving the open spaces beyond the suburbs, the silence of no one but them for miles. Steve doesn't object; doesn't say much at all, really, just sits there and looks out of his side of the car as the scenery changes, as Bucky takes them out further and further, down forgotten trails and deserted roads. They find a picnic site as the sun begins to slant, empty and quiet, not a soul around. Appeased, Bucky points the gorgeous thing off the road, parks her near the tables and benches and turns the engine off. 

The silence is amazing. It envelops them, reaches inside him to that empty place and curls up, fills it until he can breathe again. It's not that he dislikes being around people, and God knows he wouldn't go back to what he was if his life depended on it, but he still feels the most settled when there's nothing but silence inside his ears. 

Steve is the one exception to the rule (he always was, let's be honest). Steve, who seems to feel some of what Bucky basks in, because he breaks his repose, stretching thoroughly before slumping back into the seat, something very much like contentment in every movement, every breath that comes slow and deep, almost meditative.

"So," he says. His voice is a touch raspy, and Bucky realises with amazement that they have been driving for close to two hours and they haven't spoken a single word in all that time. "We're here, wherever 'here' is. Did you have a plan for phase two?"

Bucky grins even as he squirms a little in his seat, looks out at the really rather lovely view. 

"Uh," he stalls. "Not...as such."

Steve huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, apparently unsurprised and willing to go along with it. 

"How about a walk, then? Since you dragged us all the way out here and everything?"

Bucky nods, eager for anything Steve suggests as long as it isn't leaving. 

They turn in perfect time, climbing out of opposite sides, letting the doors slam. That much, at least, hasn't changed; what _has_ , well, that's what they're here to find out.

Bucky swallows against a suddenly dry throat. It's not like him to be this hesitant; he'd made a point of brushing up on modern history, especially certain aspects of it, and knows that all the things that used to hold him back, made him wake up in cold sweat from dreams of people finding out about Steve and dragging him away, never to be seen or heard from again -- they're gone now, part of that same history. He can, at long last, seventy years later, make a move -- if he weren't such a goddamn fucking coward. 

Steve is no help _at all_. Bucky doesn't need to look at him to know there's a small smile of contentment on his face, the way he looks not straight ahead but everywhere around him, fingers twitching, likely longing for his charcoals and sketchbook. He doesn't need to ask to know how good Steve feels, how peaceful, how thrilled to just be here, be alive.

Bucky is so in love with him, his whole chest aches with it. 

"Hey," he says, has to pause to swallow. "I got something I want to talk to you about."

Steve hums a question, drifting to an easy stop and turning to face him like it's natural, like they've been doing this their whole lives (they have). Bucky looks at him, at that face that's been haunting his dreams for what feels like forever, and fuck it, what are the odds of this? That they're still here, after everything that's happened to them, things that would kill lesser men so many times over, and they're still standing.

"I don't know how to say this," he confesses.

Steve just looks at him, raises his arm, puts his warm, solid hand on Bucky's shoulder, right where it meets his neck. 

"Just say it," he advises, smiling this soft, fond smile that Bucky remembers and remembers and remembers, and really, what are words for?

He leans forward, leans in until his chest presses against Steve's, until his mouth shares Steve's air, until he closes his eyes and sighs and Steve's lips are there, kissing him so sweetly, like he, too, has been doing this every night in his dreams. 

Bucky feels like he's drowning, and he never wants to resurface. 

Yeah, okay, so Coulson is probably going to dismember them and feed them to wild hyenas. This? Was still worth it; and like he said, he's got plans for that car.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] You've got the love I need to see me through](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1713233) by [sirona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/pseuds/sirona), [sisi_rambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisi_rambles/pseuds/sisi_rambles)




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